


Drunk Down Under

by Valgus



Series: Words of Nations [11]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valgus/pseuds/Valgus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisses with Jett always felt like the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Down Under

**West Germany, 1950s**

“Say, Arthur…”

Arthur Kirkland raised his face from the report he must signed that afternoon. He had been sitting there since eight in the morning, behind the table across a cell where a certain prisoner stayed. The personification of England had done it for days, but that was the first time he heard the prisoner attempt to talk to him. The bushy-eyebrowed nation glance to the cell, sighing loudly as he did.

“What is it, Ludwig?”

The man who sat inside the cell was a ghost of his former, well-built self. Torn, battered, and skeleton-like, Germany looked at England with no expression on his face.

“How’s Jett?”

The last thing that Arthur expected was for Ludwig to ask about his relative, the personification of Australia.

“ _Jett?_ ” Arthur repeated in an octave higher, chuckling after. “You said nothing for months and this is the first thing you spoke? You want to know about the news of Jett Kirkland?”

Ludwig only stared at him. His pair of cold, blue eyes seemed empty.

Arthur did another long sigh, “He’s not doing well, _Luddy_. The war sped up the manufacturing industry and resulted a large fall in employment. Not to mention _his people_ —“ The green-eyed nation stopped talking at the sight of the prisoner’s tears.

The personification of Germany himself didn’t seem to care or even realised that he was crying. He just sat there, eyes on Arthur, while tears dripping down from his eyes to his sunken cheeks to his chin.

“What?” snapped Arthur. “Now you feel sorry? Now you realised what you have done to all of us? To _the whole world?_ ”

Ludwig didn’t speak for another couple of months.

*)*

**Sydney, 25 April 2010s**

“It’s a beautiful painting.”

A tall, tanned man in suit turned his head around, peeling his sight off from a painting large enough to cover a king-sized bed. He looked at the source of the voice, to another tall man in suit. They stood beautifully, almost surreal, much like painting behind them; one has sun-kissed skin with dark, woody coloured hair, green eyes, and thick eyebrows, while the other was pale with eyes that reminded one of lake in winter. Both of them were almost perfectly built, stood mesmerisingly in well-tailored suit and a pair of Oxford shoes.

“And _guten tag_ to you, _Herr_ Beilschmidt,” the green eyed male on the left snickered.

Ludwig stared at Jett Kirkland with one eyebrow raised.

“It’s a little strange to see you with something that covers your knees,” the blond nation spoke.

Jett Kirkland furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you currently... joking?”

Ludwig’s both eyebrows are now raised, “Yes. Yes, I am joking.”

Jett laughed so loud that Ludwig flinched. Never had something so loud made the blue-eyed nation smile.

*)*

“Honestly, though, I didn’t think that Willow would paint for us for the event. She did start to accept the fact that I’m going to lift her up whenever I see her,” Jett chuckled as he spoke on his little sister while Ludwig watched him. They had strolled down the hall of Museum of Contemporary Art of Australia. Pairs and pairs of eyes had followed the two fine country walking, while the two males himself were probably more than used to be stared at.

“Is Willow well?” Ludwig inquired when Jett had finished talking.

“Well, she’s turning eleven this year, so I suppose I’ll get ready for some teenage angst in a couple of more years,” Jett shrugged and half of Ludwig’s lips smile. “That’s enough about me, Mate—how are you? I didn’t think you’d visit. Roderich visit every year, or at least every time there’s biennale or grand classical performance on Opera House. I’m sure you’ve met him on the hotel or some way.”

Ludwig nodded, “I did meet him.” He said nothing more and simply followed Jett to the lift that showed the scenery outside; Circular Quay station and Sydney Opera House across the museum.

The lift was empty—or some people did empty it so the two nations can fit in comfortably without having to be crammed with other people—so Jett stepped in with Ludwig following him.

“Heard things are pretty rough in Europe now,” the brown-haired nation started to loosen the tie which coloured complimented his green eyes.

Ludwig did another nod.

“But seeing you can come here, it seems that you have things under control, huh?” moving his hand to the button, Jett pushed the sign for the first floor.

Ludwig stole a couple of glance towards the other nation, who had started to take off his suit, leaving a merino wool sweater over white shirt, mumbling, “It’s hot” to Ludwig who didn’t seem to mind in the temperature in his own suit.

There was only a floor to go when the blue-eyed nation finally opened his mouth again, “Australia—Jett… I’m actually really busy at this time of the year—no, I’m actually always busy and you know that. But I want to come here. Do you think it’s possible for you to clear your schedule so you can have a drink with me tonight? My plane will be leaving at 12 pm tomorrow afternoon, so…” Ludwig had started by staring the other nation straight in the eyes, but by the end of his sentences, his sight was on his Oxford, his face was uncomfortably hot.

Ludwig only lifted his head when he felt Jett’s hand on his shoulder and the green-eyed nation lips on his a mere second later. Ludwig was nothing but weak in the knees. He had to lean on Jett’s arms before desperately attempt to pulling back and reasoned between kisses.

“Jett—we can’t—we’re in a lift—it’s see-through—people can see— _your_ people can see—“

The personification of Australia stopped after at least three more wet, sloppy kisses on Ludwig’s face.

“Cheers, Mate,” he smirked cockily and lead the way upon the lift’s door opening.

Ludwig followed, covering his face—especially his lips—with the back of his right hand.

Jett was right.

It _was_ hot.

*)*

Jett always brought Ludwig to the best pubs in town. While the interior reminded the European nation very much on Arthur’s pub, but a lot of things were different; the way Jett’s people speak, the beer, and the general atmosphere. They were both usually the last person standing after a long night of drinking, Jett being a little stronger than Ludwig when it comes to alcoholic beverage. 

When Ludwig tried to ask him why, Jett simply mentioned that he lived in the land of poisonous snake and dangerous creature. ‘Alcohol,’ he said with red face and stupid smile, ‘was just a really lame-o poison.’ He hiccuped and his stupid smile was still there. While Ludwig was pissed himself, he remembered that—he remembered the most amazing stupid smile he had ever seen in his entire 200 years old life and he remembered wanting to kiss that smile so much.

*)*

That night, they stumbled messily into a taxi before stumbled into another lift and another sloppy kisses. 

No one would debate the capability of Ludwig Beilschmidt as leader and controller, but no one had known that the man himself enjoyed being lead and controlled by rougher, wilder nation like Jett Kirkland. While mess and danger weren’t exactly the blond nation thing, there was something about Australia that made his heart race to the point it was about to burst. Was it the land? Was it the beaches? Was it simply the man with tan skin and brown hair who would run to his little sister Willow of Wy or some cats or both and lift them while cooing lovingly?

And kisses with Jett always felt like the best. He would hold Ludwig firmly on his strong arms—strong hands, strong and wonderful fingers—and Ludwig would felt like a click was finally made, like the universe was finally aligned and perfect. Jett always tasted like Ludwig’s favourite thing; most of the times it’s beer; the other times, Ludwig thought that must be what love tasted like.

They would eventually stumbled into the bed—their bed—and stumbled into series of impatient clothes-peeling. Then there would be more kisses, moans, and then screams of pleasure.

Ludwig was reduced to mere prey when he was with Jett the hunter, Jett the strong and wild hunter, and he enjoyed every single second he was being handled by the slightly older nation. He would always be dry and dead tired whenever they finished, but each night they spent together only got better and better.

On that particular night, Ludwig was still a little high from sex and alcohol. He slurred to the chiseled, tanned man next to him, “Why must you be so far away from Europe, Jett?”

Jett chuckled, “At least I’ll join Eurovision.”

Ludwig pouted. And something in that pout made Jett leaned towards him and showered the paler nation with kisses.

“Cheer up, ya bastard,” Jett pecked Ludwig on the lips. “I’ll go there too—same time for Oktoberfest this year?”

Ludwig smiled and returned the short kiss.

Jett then pulled him into his embrace and they spent some moments in silence. They had been together for so long that silence-filled nothingness could feel just as endearing as heavy drinking or a day off on the beach. 

“Hey Lutz?”

“Mm?”

“Y’know, we Aussie don’t have sex or make love.”

“What?”

“We _mate_.”

Ludwig Beilschmidt never pinched anyone on the cheek like he did to Jett Kirkland.

Jett was undeniably an idiot with stupid smile.

But he was _Ludwig’s_ idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I named Wy ‘Willow’, because of the creative person I am. I want to write about Australia with Wy so much but I decided that this piece would be about him and Germany. And yes, in case someone doesn't realise it, Wy painted for ANZAC day. It's a 'national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand that broadly commemorates all Australians and New Zealanders "who served and died in all wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations" and "the contribution and suffering of all those who have served."' that we celebrate every 25 April every year to honour the members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC)
> 
> I finally wrote something on my country. I’ve been dying to do one but it never felt right until now.
> 
> And, yes, 'bastard' can be term of endearment here.
> 
> When I wrote that Jett is slightly older than Ludwig, it’s because he was born on 26 January 1788. He would be 227 years, 4 months, and 24 years old today on 19 June 2015. For Ludwig, I used the German Confederation as his birthday, which mean he would be 200 years and 11 days today if he was born on 8 June 1815. It’s a little complicated since I know some people decided that he would born when the German Empire started to exist but hey, even Himaruya himself wrote that Germany had a previous vessel and wasn’t born as a baby like other country, so…
> 
> Thank you for reading ‘Drunk Down Under’! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.


End file.
